[no time stamp]
With some time to think about this, it seems strange that the evening started with me fishing at a tranquil lake, drinking a beer and I ended it sitting in an underground Multifuel tank. After running for my life, of course.
Then again, considering the guys I’m running with, it’s not that big a twist.
So, how did it come to this?
One of the more valuable lessons I’ve learned, and I’m thankful for that, is that other people have problems too. Everyone has a past, everyone has baggage.
You can spend months with someone and barely scratch the surface of who they are.
Could be ‘cause you’re too busy surviving, or you wanna keep things professional, or simply ‘cause you assume things.
Nebraska, for example.
Granted, I don’t much care who my people were compared to who they are, but what she told me explained a lot about her and her quirks.
There was a place near the motel we were staying and let’s just say it wasn’t a good place. Some assholes were pulling a stunt pretty similar to the sanatorium back in Seattle.
She’s been through that.
Two of Nebraska’s friends were still held there and she wanted to bail them out, no matter what.
She promised them she’d come back, that she wouldn’t leave them behind.
Sounds familiar, don’t ya think?
Gotta admit, I was disappointed that she tried to push that button and wasn’t just straight forward about it, but it didn’t matter.
She needed my help. I was there. And that’s that.
The B&E itself wasn’t that tough. We found the cabin where Dakota and Redeye, Nebraska’s friends, were held.
We got in and out with the usual problems.
But there was a kicker: while Dakota made little effort to prevent our noble rescue attempt, Redeye fought tooth and nail to stay.
Spirits, I thought it was the Bliss, but she went totally berserk on me. A 5 foot elf girl almost decked me…
Why on earth would she struggle so much to stay in this horrible camp where she’s drugged and abused?
Thing is, as we rode off, she got worse by the minute. None of us could make sense of it while the medkit callously continued to spit out sad numbers.
And that’s were we go full circle.
If you listen, you can understand who people are.
Well, d’uh, right? But it’s not that simple, I guess.
Nebraska and Dakota said something about her never making an attempt to escape but rather help people inside.
She had a garden she loved.
She was a remarkably small elf.
As I had just found out, she’d rather wither away in misery than leave that fucking camp.
Leaving the place she lived made her terribly sick.
All those tiny bits made things fall into place.
And in case you didn’t get it by now… She’s a dryad.
One of the less common metatypes of our colorful human species.
She was tied to her home and those ties were about to snap.
In folklore dryads die when they leave their home, when they lose their roots.
Stories about them did never end well as far as I recall.
So I figured it was time for my own canon.
When I knew what to look for, it was easier to see the astral bond to her home and I could see how it strained, how it got weaker.
I waited for it to snap…and took all the backlash.
The pain was… massive, but nothing I haven’t had before. What made this overwhelming were the emotions riding the wave of agony.
It’s called empathic healing for a reason, you know?
And I understand why this would have killed her.
Apart from the trauma, there was… a craving, a yearning for a place to belong so strong that it hurt. Imagining to lose this bond was painful beyond words, so I’ll just leave it at that.
We were both in bad shape, but we’ll live.